


Worth Every Minute

by boomsherlocka



Series: Worth Every Dollar [1]
Category: Check Please
Genre: AU, M/M, NHL! Jack, Stripper!Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 00:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14484951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomsherlocka/pseuds/boomsherlocka
Summary: Jack really shouldn’t have been surprised by his teammates’ reactions when he came out to them at the beginning of his second year with them. He expected begrudging acceptance, a few pats on the back, perhaps a misplaced “gaydar” joke.None of this happened. Instead he was corralled into Tater’s SUV a few weeks later. They headed off in the direction of downtown Providence.





	Worth Every Minute

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration come from Beyonce's "Six Inch".

Jack really shouldn’t have been surprised by his teammates’ reactions when he came out to them at the beginning of his second year with them. He expected begrudging acceptance, a few pats on the back, perhaps a misplaced “gaydar” joke.

None of this happened. Instead he was corralled into Tater’s SUV a few weeks later. They headed off in the direction of downtown Providence.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Jack asked, fiddling with his seatbelt.

Poots waved him off and Tater chuckled from the driver’s seat. “Surprise, Zimmboni. You will like.”

A cold wave of dread washed over Jack but he nodded hesitantly. “Okay,” Jack relented. “As long as it isn’t a strip club.”

Snowy cleared his throat, glancing over to Tater before shaking his head. “It’s classy, Zimms,” he finally said, looking at Jack in the rearview mirror. “You’ll survive.”

“I’ll survive,” Jack echoed, shaking his head a bit. “I’ll be mortified.”

“Not if you are having a few drinks before performance,” Tater said with a devilish grin. “You will like performance, I know this.”

“How do you know?” Jack asked. Poots had the decency to blush.

“Recon,” Snowy replied with a shrug of forced nonchalance.

Jack stilled, letting those words sink in. His teammates had gone to a strip club—presumably a gay strip club—in order to find something that they thought Jack would enjoy. They may have visited more than one, even. Jack was strangely touched by this, and he let out a sigh. “Fine,” Jack finally said. “A couple of drinks and a performance.”

Tater let out a cheer and Poots nudged his shoulder against Jack’s. Snowy was too busy checking himself out in the mirror.

 ---

They were waved into the club fairly quickly with minimal fanfare. They were led through the main performance area where a man with dark skin that shone with oil was on stage, gyrating to a song with a pulsing beat. He had drawn quite an audience and was wearing nothing but a neon yellow g-string. Jack averted his eyes as the man thrust his hips to a round of loud cheers.

He was thankful when they made it to their private room, where there were two bottles of expensive champagne chilling by a large leather sectional. There was a small stage in front of them with a gleaming pole in the center, and Jack kept a wary eye on the door as he sank down on the sofa.

Tater popped open the first bottle of champagne and poured them all a glass before draping himself over the corner of the sectional, smirking at Jack over the rim of his glass.

Jack drank his champagne in two uncomfortable gulps and held out his glass for a refill. “What makes you so sure I’m going to like this?”

“We’ve been taking notes, bud,” Poots said, patting Jack’s knee. “We know you like blondes, you actually smiled for that reporter in Boston.”

“The athlete thing is a given, you work hard and can appreciate someone else who does as well, and wait until you see this guy,” Snowy added, shaking his head.

“Zimmboni going to fall in love,” Tater chirped, refilling Jack’s glass to the brim. “Just wait and see.”

Jack scoffed, but when the door opened he had to try very hard not to spill his champagne all over himself.  

The man who entered the room was dressed in an oversized white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. His skin still held the hint of a summer tan, and Jack had to force himself to stop staring at lean-muscled thighs and move his gaze up to the man’s face.

Shifting his focus did not help matters. The man’s hair was artfully tousled, obviously made to look as though he had just rolled out of bed. One particularly stubborn cowlick stood up at the crown of his head, and Jack’s hand twitched.

“Hello again boys,” the man said, his voice an easy Southern drawl that made Jack shiver. The man finally settled his warm brown gaze on Jack, and a slow smile grew on his face. “So you are the infamous Jack, huh? These boys sure had a lot to say about you the last time they were here, let me tell you.”

Jack swallowed thickly, his grip on his champagne flute tightening. “They were probably all lies,” he said weakly.

The man laughed low and sensuous before sitting on the edge of the stage. “They weren’t lying about how cute you are,” he said. He crossed his legs in a smooth, practiced motion and it was then that Jack noticed the heels.

They were a bright red, with a large platform and a stiletto-thin heel. There was a thin strap that wrapped around the man’s ankle that had a modest little bow attached.

Jack felt his heart thud heavy in his chest and he drained his second glass. Tater took away the empty glass and Jack leaned forward a bit. “What’s your name?” he heard himself ask the man.

“Everyone calls me Bitty,” the man said, sliding his hands down his legs before standing, circling around the pole and striking a pose. “Nice to meet you, honey. Now sit back and relax. Enjoy yourself.”

Music began to play. The base made the floor shake and Jack sank his fingers into the plush leather seats at his sides. Poots shook Jack’s shoulder and Snowy chuckled somewhere to his left.

The smile on Bitty’s face was nothing short of wicked as he bent over at the waist, hands grazing up his body as he slowly rolled back upward. His fingers caught the bottom of the dress shirt he was wearing and Jack caught a glimpse of black lace underwear riding low on his hips.

Jack swallowed thickly, unable to look away from Bitty’s lithe body as he moved with the slow, steady beat of the song. He unbuttoned the dress shirt in a tantalizingly slow manner, his warm brown gaze on Jack. He had the swell of his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, but he released it as he dropped his shirt with a sigh.

Jack prided himself on his self-control. He knew, after years of therapy, when to say no. What was too much. Where his breaking point lie.

When Bitty stood in front of him wearing nothing but lace underwear and six-inch heels, some fundamental part of Jack’s carefully constructed line in the sand was washed away in a high tide.

Jack didn’t want to say no. His heart was racing and Bitty wrapped himself around the pole like he was born to be there and Jack was just… gone. His eyes drank in every defined line of Bitty’s body, every twist, every curve. He had never seen anything more beautiful, he had never wanted anyone with such an intensity before.

He heard Tater cheer at a particularly athletic spin on Bitty’s part and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was with teammates, he couldn’t let himself get too carried away.

Soon, too soon, the song was coming to an end. A woman’s voice repeated “Come back,” her tone breathy and almost sad. Bitty was suddenly off the stage, taking slow steps towards Jack.

Jack let his eyes travel up Bitty’s chest to meet his gaze, and his throat went dry. Bitty’s expression was one of pure desire, the heat of his gaze burning Jack’s skin.

Bitty mouthed along with the final “Come back” as he gracefully sank to his knees in front of Jack, his hands smoothing down Jack’s thighs as he settled in front of him.

The room was suddenly silent, and for a moment Jack forgot about his teammates being in the room. It was only him and Bitty, breathing in unison and lost in one another.

Then Snowy began to clap, followed by Tater and Poots. Tater was on his feet, pumping a fist in the air.

Bitty lowered his gaze, a pretty blush rising on his cheeks as he stood, taking a little bow. “Why thank you, gentlemen,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest for a moment before raising it to fan himself. His gaze returned to Jack and a small smile crossed his face. “I think poor Jack might need another drink,” he said before chuckling.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to touch,” Jack sputtered out, his own voice sounding strange to his ears.

“Oh honey, I can touch all I want, it’s you who can’t,” Bitty replied, going to retrieve his shirt. “I usually don’t, but I thought I could make an exception for you.” He winked as he buttoned his shirt back up.

Something heavy settled in Jack’s stomach as a thought, dark and vicious, settled in his mind. “I bet you say that to all the boys,” Jack said before he could stop himself.

A complicated string of emotions crossed Bitty’s face as he settled his hands on his hips, leveling Jack with an intense expression. “I won’t have you thinking you’re just one of the boys, Mr Zimmermann. You’re more than that. You, mister, are an icon. What you did, coming out…” Bitty let out a huff, shaking his head a bit. “You are so brave, and so strong. So many people support you and are proud of you. Hell, your teammates brought you to a gay strip club because they love you. And wanted to embarrass you, probably.”

But Jack wasn’t embarrassed. He felt warm, but not unpleasantly so. He offered Bitty a smile, which was returned. “Thank you,” Jack said softly.

“You’re very welcome,” Bitty replied. “Now I gotta go, but I hope to see you again real soon, alright?”

Jack nodded, shrugging nonchalantly. He could see himself making time to come see Bitty dance again, but his teammates didn’t need to know that. He would get chirped enough as it is.

“Thanks Bitty, you were perfect,” Tater said, pulling some money from his wallet and passing it over to Bitty, who tucked it away with a small smile.

“You boys enjoy the rest of your night,” he said softly, waving at them. With that, Bitty was gone, and the lights in the room seemed to fade. Jack sank back into the sofa.  

“Wish I had taken video of your face,” Tater said as he reached over to pat Jack’s knee. “Would be good to show at wedding.”

After they finished off the bottles of champagne the night was over, and soon they were all piled up in Tater’s SUV again.

“You liked it, right?” Poots asked hesitantly, his hands folded in his lap. “We figured a lap dance might have been a little too much for you, but Bitty was really accommodating. IF you would have told him to stop he would have stopped, no problem.”

Jack couldn’t help it. He chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t want him to stop,” he admitted, bowing his head as he felt his face heat. “You guys—you couldn’t have chosen better. Thank you, this was…” he trailed off, not sure what word he needed to finish that sentence.

“Love at first sight,” Snowy supplied before yawning. “You should have got his number, dude. No one is going to say no to Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack sighed. The thought had crossed his mind, but it would have probably crossed quite a few lines. Plus, it was Bitty’s job to pretend to be interested in his clients, and he was clearly very good at his job. Still, he knew where to find Bitty, and that thought brought him a little comfort.

Jack didn’t sleep well that night, and when he did finally nod off he dreamed of the feel of Bitty’s hands on his thighs.

\---  

Jack had a day off, and he decided to spend a little time getting to know the city of Providence a bit better. Most of his sightseeing had been when his parents visited and being dragged to clubs and bars by his teammates. In fact, Tater had been telling him that he needed to let loose a little, maybe pay a visit to Bitty. It had been a month since their little excursion and Tater asked Jack every other day if he had been back or thought about going back.

Jack had not quite talked himself into returning to the strip club, but he thought of Bitty regularly. He had even tracked down the song that he had danced to, which he had listened to pretty much exclusively when he masturbated. He was not proud of that fact.

Jack found himself in a trendy part of town, enjoying the nice weather as he strolled down the street. He lingered in front of a shoe store whose display featured an undoubtedly expensive pair of heels and he had to steer his thoughts, yet again, away from Bitty.

He forced himself to move on, and it wasn’t long until he began to smell something heavenly. It smelled like the perfect combination of cinnamon, sugar and butter and the farther he walked down the street the stronger the scent became.

The smell led him to a quaint storefront of a bakery called Providence Pies and Jack didn’t hesitate to open the door and enter. There were a few tables inside and a scattering of customers sipping cups of coffee and indulging in various baked goods.

Jack noticed a bored-looking young woman putting fresh cinnamon rolls in the display case and he stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Are those what I’m smelling?” he asked, pointing to the cinnamon rolls.

The woman shook her head. “Nah, Eric’s just put a couple of maple apple pies in the oven.”

“Apple,” Jack repeated, his mouth watering. “How long until those are done?”

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes,” a male voice called from the back. Soon after a figure bustled in with a tray of cheese Danish. “Could you put these in the case, honey?” he asked the woman and she nodded.

Jack…Jack was frozen in place. The man was shorter than Jack remembered, but it was unmistakably Bitty. It was probably the lack of high heels. Jack swallowed thickly and held up a hand in a wave.

Bitty’s eyes widened, a flash of fear crossing his face. Jack was quick to hold up both of his hands in surrender. “Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty breathed, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I smelled pie,” he replied lamely. “I didn’t…is this your place?”

The trepidation on Bitty’s face shifted to pride. “I just bought out the old owners,” he said, wiping his hands on his apron before holding one out for Jack to shake. “We haven’t actually met properly. I’m Eric.”

“Hi Eric,” Jack said, shaking his hand. “Jack.”

“Jack, why don’t you have a cinnamon roll while we wait for the pie to bake,” Bitty—Eric—said, and he got a large, sticky roll from the case. He put it on a plate, grabbed a fork, and crossed around the counter, motioning for Jack to follow him to the corner of the shop.

They sat down, and Eric pushed the cinnamon roll toward Jack. “Are you really just here for the pie, Jack? Because if you think you’re going to embarrass me I’ll have you know I’m not ashamed of what I did to get where I am.”

Jack shook his head, his brow furrowing. “No! This… this is a coincidence, I swear! I didn’t know…I didn’t think I would ever see you again, but I didn’t snoop around to find you. But I can’t say I’m not happy to see you. I am.”

The tension in Eric’s shoulders loosened a bit and he picked up Jack’s fork, cutting off a bit of the cinnamon roll and popping it into his mouth. He hummed his approval and cut another piece, holding it out for Jack.

Jack huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, opening his mouth. Eric slipped the fork between his lips and Jack took the bite, his eyes slipping closed as he savored it.

Eric chuckled. “There’s that face. I was wondering if I’d get to see it again.”

Jack opened his eyes and swallowed his mouthful. “What face?”

“Your features go all slack when you’re enjoying something,” Eric said with a little shrug. “At least enjoying something so much that your mind turns off. It’s a good look on you.”

Jack could feel himself flushing, and he nodded. “I… yeah. I enjoyed myself very much. You’re… you were incredible.”

Eric preened a bit. “I know,” he said with an easy grin. “I hoped you would come back. Maybe on your own.”

“I thought about it,” Jack admitted. “I was… I convinced myself of a lot of things.”

Eric sighed, cutting off another piece of cinnamon roll and holding it out for Jack. “I have to pretend with a lot of boys, honey, but I didn’t have to pretend with you.”

Jack slid his damp palms over the thighs of his jeans before leaning forward to take the second bite. He chewed slowly, studying the earnest expression on Eric’s face. He wasn’t lying.  

Eric laid down his fork and reached for something in his pocket. After a moment he slid his phone across the table towards Jack, his cheeks a little pink. “Why don’t you put your number in there, and I’ll text you when I get off work.”

Jack nodded, reaching for the phone. He fumbled it a bit, typing his number in wrong the first time before saving his number under “Jack :-)”. Eric chuckled when he got his phone back, tucking it back into his pocket.

“I’ll bring you a whole pie of your own, how’s that?” Eric asked before winking.

“You have to share it with me,” Jack said.

Eric bit his bottom lip, trying to suppress his growing grin. “Deal,” he finally said. “Now eat your cinnamon roll and enjoy the rest of your morning, alright?”

Jack savored each bite.

**Author's Note:**

> There is now a sequel to this fic!


End file.
